


Chicago Dogs

by SophiaHawkins



Category: Chicago Fire, Reservoir Dogs (1992)
Genre: AU, Crossover, Fix-It of Sorts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:48:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28344912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SophiaHawkins/pseuds/SophiaHawkins
Summary: During a routine structure fire, Matt Casey and Kelly Severide enter a warehouse to evacuate the people inside, and find themselves caught in the fallout of a jewelry heist gone wrong. Rated for canon movie language.
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm honestly not sure if any of the archive warnings apply.

Chicago Dogs

"Hey, did you guys hear about a jewelry store robbery earlier today?" Herrmann asked during the ride to their next call.

"Yeah, something," Otis answered.

"Right 'fore we left they were saying on the news that these sons of bitches blew away about 10 cops and civilians, they found two of them dead, the rest of them got away," Herrmann said, "made off with a fortune in diamonds."

"Now if _ever_ Voight needed to set his sights on somebody," Mouch commented.

Casey absently nodded his head in silent participation of the conversation. Right now they had bigger fish to fry, a call had come in about a structure fire in one of the emptier parts of Chicago, and while in theory that would mean less civilians to be at risk, they all knew only too well words like 'empty' and 'abandoned' didn't mean unoccupied. He glanced out the window and saw the Squad rig en route to the same destination from a different street. There was never any way to know before they pulled up on a scene what they were looking at. Dispatch only gave the barest minimum details, it was always that way. If they said 'person trapped', it could be somebody crushed by an elevator or a child dragged under a car. If they said 'structure fire', it could be a three story school, or a 20 story hotel. Sometimes he wished dispatch had a direct line to the 911 caller so they could get actual details of what they were going to be stepping into before having to see it with their own eyes.

Now they could see the black smoke billowing up ahead but it was still too far away to see what specific building it was coming from.

"What is this place?" Casey asked as he looked around.

Severide's voice came over the radio, "Looks like a bunch of warehouses and storage sheds. Nobody can be living out here."

Casey reached for his radio and called back, "We can't take that chance, if we see any signs of life out here we'll have to evacuate."

"Copy that."

"There it is," Otis said as they came upon an old warehouse that had flames spewing out of the roof and smoke pouring out of every opening.

"Hey...hey!" Casey glanced out the window and saw something, "Looks like there's people in that warehouse over there, there're cars and they don't look like they've been here long."

"Well they're damn idiots if they stick around here," Herrmann said, "Unless they're deaf they have to hear what's going on."

The trucks pulled up, everybody hopped out and quickly went to work. Whoever had called 911 to report the fire hadn't stuck around, so they had no idea what they were walking into, but as they got ready to head in and do a primary search, the wind came up and huge chunks of burning debris went flying through the air. It was a safe bet wherever they landed there would be other fires growing before this was over.

* * *

A primary search turned up no victims in the warehouse, at least none that could be found without getting burnt to a crisp in the process. There wasn't any way to tell what had started the fire but it was already out of control by the time the firemen stormed the building, it was a raging inferno by the time they finally got out. Engine went to work steadily trying to douse the flames, but everybody there had enough time on the job to know it would be the better part of an hour, at least, before they could be sure it was out and it was safe to roll up the hoses and head back to 51.

While Squad and Truck stood around waiting for orders to assist Engine, Casey looked back the way they came, in the distance he saw the same warehouse they'd passed earlier. He blinked.

There were several cars where when they pulled up, two or three, maybe more, he wasn't paying enough attention, but now there was only one car there, it was too far to really make out but Casey thought it looked like a yellow Cadillac.

"Hey," he nudged Kelly.

Severide turned and looked as well, and he saw, and Casey saw, a man, come out of the warehouse, and head to the car. Again, he was too far away to make out a lot of details but they could see he was wearing a white shirt and black pants, he opened the trunk of the car, took out something that looked like a gas can, and headed back in.

"What the hell?" Casey asked.

"Maybe we got the answer how _this_ fire got started," Kelly said. "Come on, let's see what's going on."

The two firefighters moved as fast as they could in their turnout gear. As they reached the warehouse Casey saw it was in fact a yellow Cadillac Coupe de Ville, a classic car. And the person driving it was inside trying to start another fire?

As they headed to the front door of the old brick building, their hearts jumped to their throats as a rapid succession of gunfire rang out from inside the building. Casey and Severide hit the ground, waiting, watching, but no shots came through the door, they weren't hurt.

"What the hell's going on?" Casey asked.

Kelly shook his head, he also reached for his radio and told dispatch their location, that shots had been fired, and said they were in need of law enforcement immediately. Dispatch affirmed the message would be relayed to CPD. He looked at Casey, whose whole body was tense and he looked like he was about to start shaking. Kelly knew he felt the same way, but they couldn't go back now.

"Come on," he forced the words out, "We gotta find out what happened."

Casey nervously nodded and they went up to the door, quietly opened it, and stepped in.

The man they saw was now laying in a bloody heap on the floor right beside the door. His whole white shirt was now soaked through with his blood, he was dead, a lighter on the floor near his hand.

That was shocking enough by itself. Then they turned and discovered two more horrifying sights.

One, another man dressed in a white shirt and black pants, was sprawled on the floor, vainly trying to sit up, his whole shirt also saturated in his blood, as well as the floor beneath him. He was a skinny, pale, shaking man, with a gun in his hand. A few feet away from him, a young patrolman was duct taped to a chair, his face covered in blood, and both firemen were nauseated at the bloody gash on the side of his head where his ear had been. On the floor by him was an empty metal gas can, and the stench of gas fumes was rampant in the whole room.

"Oh my God!"

Casey wasn't even aware of the words leaving his mouth. He hit his radio and told dispatch they needed additional ambulances, and whatever police were on the way, they needed more of them.

The two firemen cautiously moved over to the two men. The bloody one on the floor dropped his gun and fell back against the floor, his hands were bright red in his own blood, matching his shirt.

"Who...who...who the fuck are you?" he weakly demanded.

"Fire department," Kelly answered in a dumbstruck tone. "We're gonna get you two help."

"No," the man defiantly responded.

The cop in the chair was bordering on hysterical and yelled at them, "Don't listen to him, get me the fuck out of this chair, that _psychopath_ over there, fucking slashed my face and cut off my ear, he was gonna burn me! I have a son!"

"No!" the man on the floor repeated much louder than any of them would've thought him capable of right now. He looked at the firemen and told them with much difficulty and heaving breaths, "I'm a cop...Freddy Newendyke."

Kelly reached in his turnout pocket and took out a utility knife and used it to cut through the duct tape. "What's your name?"

"Marvin Nash," the young cop answered.

"What happened here?" Casey asked.

"I'm on the job!" Freddy screamed from where he lay on the floor, "I went in undercover with these guys, a jewelry store heist, Israeli diamonds, it was supposed to be quick and easy, in and out, nobody hurt...that fucking psycho over there opened fire on everybody and got all of us into this mess!"

"You, don't talk," Kelly ordered him.

Freddy's eyes bulged and saliva spewed upward when he yelled at the Squad lieutenant, "Fuck you, man! I'm dying!"

"You will if you don't _shut up_!" Casey told him as he knelt down on the concrete floor beside the man and assessed the situation of his injuries, "What happened to you?"

"Gut shot. I'm fucking dying!"

Casey cringed as he grabbed the cotton that was wringing wet in the cop's blood, as many horrible things as he was a witness to on this job, he wasn't sure he'd ever seen anything that could prepare him for this. Freddy screamed in pain as Casey ripped the shirt open and got a better look at the wound.

"How long ago did this happen?"

The sweating man shook his head against the floor, "I don't know...oh fuck, what time is it? How long have we been here?"

"It looks bad," Casey started to say.

"Yeah I fucking know that, you should see how it fucking _feels_ if you think it looks bad!" Freddy screamed at the top of his lungs.

"But stomach wounds take a long time to bleed out," Casey said.

"Yeah, I know, days." Freddy rolled his eyes to look from one fireman to the other and said in a much calmer voice, "He lied to me, didn't he? I knew he lied, he was just trying to get me to calm down, die quietly."

"Who?" Casey asked.

"Larry...Mr. White...he's the one that brought me here."

"Where is he?"

"He and the others left to get the diamonds, they're gonna get back here any fucking minute with Joe Cabot, the ringleader of this whole mess, that's why I was undercover, it was a sting to finally nail Cabot, he's been pulling jobs like this for years and nobody could ever touch him." He gritted his teeth and made his voice as firm as possible as he told the two firemen, "Either I'm dying or I'm busting this son of a bitch, either way it's going to end here, and I'm not leaving until it's over."

Kelly got the patrolman cut loose and he all but flew out of the chair as he got to his feet and ripped the tape off of his body. As he did, Kelly looked around and just now for the first time realized that over towards the doors, there were several coffins, all brand new, still wrapped in plastic and brown packing paper, all standing on end, and in the corner, draped with plastic, was a hearse.

"What the hell kind of place is this?" he asked himself.

"Fuck you, Freddy, you can do what you want, I'm getting the fuck outta here while I'm still breathing," Marvin said, drawing Kelly back to the present.

"Fuck you!" Freddy screamed back at him. "What the fuck do you think is gonna happen when they get back and you're gone?"

"You, stop moving around, or I can't help you," Casey told him.

"Man what the fuck would you know?" Freddy asked.

Casey hovered over the bloody cop and asked him, "Do you know anything about gut wounds?"

"I know they hurt like fuck! What else do I need to know?"

Casey gritted his teeth and asked more firmly, "Do-you-know-anything-about-them?"

"No!" he finally answered.

"Well _I_ do!" Casey told him as he applied pressure just enough to draw a pain groan out of the cop, "And if you want to stay alive long enough to make this arrest, you'll hold still, _don't_ move, and _shut up_. The more you scream, the faster your heart beats, the faster the blood pumps out of you." After a few seconds he asked in a calmer voice, "What blood type are you, Freddy?"

"What?" he asked cluelessly.

"Blood, what type blood are you? A? B? O? Positive? Negative?"

"O...I'm O-positive."

"That's great," Casey said, "Kelly's gonna get on his radio to the hospital and tell them to start getting units out for a transfusion, they will be ready for you when we get there."

Severide stepped away and did just that. When he did, something occurred to the Truck lieutenant.

"Where's your radio?" Casey turned and asked the patrolman.

Marvin gestured back towards the dead man by the door, "That prick took it off me and shot it. He grabbed me and used me as a shield to shoot his way out of the jewelry store."

"Where's your gun?" Kelly asked.

"He took it and emptied it into the other cops on the scene," Marvin answered. He moved a step and kicked Freddy in the leg, drawing a pained groan out of the bleeding man. "Fuck you, Freddy Newendyke! If you hadn't been part of this job, I wouldn't have been there stuck with this psychopath! Only reason I was there was with the first wave to help control the situation while you caught these bastards! Why didn't you warn anybody what he was gonna do?"

"Hey fuck you, Marvin Nash! You think I had _any_ idea what he was capable of? I just met these guys five days ago!" Freddy told him. He took a pained breath and in a slightly calmer tone explained, "That's why it was supposed to work, nobody knows anybody, nobody knows anything about anybody else, that was the rules, you don't talk about where you're from, what you do, fuck, our names were all codes! Mr. Blue, Mr. Blonde, Mr. Pink, all except Joe and Eddie. Oh fuck, they're gonna be here any minute, this whole thing's fucking falling apart!"

"What about him?" Casey nodded back towards Mr. Blonde. "Does he have a gun?"

"Has a holster," Kelly noticed the leather strapped around the dead man's shoulders and back.

"Fuck yeah!" Nash ran over to his dead torturer, and just for good measure, kicked the bloody corpse hard in the ribs, he felt through the holster, finally found the gun.

"What about your gun?" Casey asked Freddy.

"It's empty! I used the rest of the magazine on that psycho prick," Freddy heaved a moan.

"You sure?" Nash asked, "You sure there's not one left in the chamber?"

"Fuck man, what does it matter?" Freddy asked.

"There's gonna be four rat bastards coming back here," Marvin said, "If those cops don't fucking get here, we're gonna need everything we got."

"They'll _be_ here!" Freddy insisted, "They're half a block away, all they're waiting on is for Joe Cabot to stick his head in here!"

"No they're not," Severide told them.

"What?" both cops asked in disbelief.

"Did either of you stop to wonder _why_ we came in here?" Casey asked. "There's a warehouse on fire two blocks up the road, we pulled up, _nobody_ was here."

"Fuck!" Nash screamed, " _Fuck_ man, we're getting burned by the whole police force here!"

"We radioed for help," Casey said in his 'everybody calm down or else!' tone he used on hostile calls, "The cops _will_ be here but we don't know when."

"You radioed for help," Freddy breathlessly got out, "Well ain't that fucking fantastic? Bunch of fucking grade A morons who don't know their ass from a hole in the ground are gonna bust in here and blow the whole thing to fucking hell cuz they ain't got any clue what's going on! Cabot is gonna walk on this _again_ just like he's walked on _every_ operation!"

"I told you," Casey said firmly as he applied pressure again and made the injured cop groan, "Shut up." Despite this, he asked Freddy, "What were you gonna tell them? Huh? That guy over there was left in charge, you killed him, what were you gonna tell them when they came back so they wouldn't suspect you're a cop?"

Freddy heaved a couple pained sighs and screamed as Casey applied pressure in a very sensitive area, his words came out in shallow breaths, "Gonna tell them he went nuts, was gonna kill the cop and then me, and when they got back he was gonna waste all of them too and make off with the diamonds."

"You think that'd work?" Casey asked.

Freddy weakly heaved in a breath, then out and asked, "Why wouldn't it? The guy's a fucking psycho, it's his fault that everything went to shit, nobody was supposed to get hurt, _nobody_ was supposed to die, _nobody_ was supposed to get fucking shot. Alarm goes off and he just starts blowing people away, cops come in, they get blown away, we all bust out of there, cops get shot, Mr. Brown gets shot...a woman shot me...I killed her...we stole her car to get here... _none_ of this was supposed to happen! It's _all_ Mr. Blonde's fault, if he hadn't started killing everyone, we would'a got out, and they would all already be in jail."

"But do you think it would work?" Kelly reiterated. "You didn't know any of these guys, but are you _sure_ none of them know each other?"

"Nice Guy Eddie is Joe's son, that's it...the rest of us were all strangers, five guys to..." his eyes weakly bulged open, "oh fuck."

"What is it?" Casey asked.

"Supposed to be five guys on the job...there were six, me, Mr. White, Mr. Blue, Mr. Blonde, Mr. Brown, Mr. Pink...oh fuck..."

"One guy too many," Kelly thought, "which one?" After a beat, he removed his radio and turned to Nash and told him, "Take this, get in touch with dispatch, tell them what's going on, get out of here, we'll figure out what to do with Freddy."

"You don't know my fucking name," he said, "that's how this works, nobody was supposed to know each other's names, you tell them my name, I'm fucked. They know me as Mr. Orange, but you don't know that either, you don't know nothing!"

"Fine, we don't know you," Casey said, "Now shut up."

Nash was just to the door when he doubled back, "Fuck! They're back!"

"What is this place?" Kelly asked.

"I don't know," Freddy answered, "We were here once, but it wasn't to look around."

"There's got to be some place to hide," Kelly said. Without time for any other options, an idea came to him and he told the patrolman, "Get in the hearse."

"Fuck you, man! I was nearly killed and you're telling me to hide in a fucking _hearse_?"

"You got a better idea? There's no time, it's in plastic, they won't think to search it," Kelly said, "Go!"

"Hurry up, they're coming!" Nash said as he ran across the room and got the door open.

"You," Casey told Freddy, "You're mumbling incoherently, they can't do anything to you if they think you're about dead."

"You don't know these guys," Freddy weakly replied.

"Just do it. Kelly, get over here and help me."

Kelly knelt down beside Casey, and at the last second, he picked up Freddy's gun and pocketed it. One in the chamber or not, he felt better actually having it on him.

The door opened and they heard the voices of several men, which quickly drew to a halt and were replaced by a loud, "What the fuck is this?" As the two firemen started to turn towards the voices, the speaker added a louder, "Don't move a fucking muscle man!"

"We're the fire department!" Kelly called back, his hands up by his head, "We're here to help!"

"Turn around, _slow_! Keep your hands where I can see them and no funny moves!"

The two firemen turned around on the balls of their feet, their hands up over their shoulders, and they saw three men. A middle aged man with dark wavy hair in a black suit with a white shirt that had blood stains on it, but he clearly wasn't injured. There was a skinnier man with stringy dark hair and buggy eyes that looked like a drowned sewer rat, clutching a bag in his grip, also dressed in a black suit and white shirt. The third man was younger, heavier built,a pudgier face, light brown curly hair, dressed in a blue windbreaker and gray pants and pointed black boots, he had rings on his fingers and a gold watch and bracelet on his wrist. He looked like the living stereotype of a wise guy. He also had a gun drawn on them.

"Shit man!" the skinny man said, "The cop's gone!"

"And Mr. Blonde is dead," the curly haired man said, keeping his gun on the two firemen, "And now we got two more players in this. Who the fuck are you?"

"We're the fire department!" Casey answered. "Did you _not_ notice the warehouse on fire and all the trucks?"

"Yeah I saw it and it doesn't concern me, so what the fuck are youse guys doing _here_?" the young man said in a voice resembling Joe Pesci's.

"It was burning out of control, other properties were at risk of catching fire, we saw the cars here so we can to evacuate everybody," Casey explained. His voice never wavering, he looked at the three men and told them with full conviction, "When we came up, we heard gunshots, then we saw two men running out of this building."

"Two?" the rat-like man asked, "Oh fuck, oh this is bad, this is bad."

" _What_ two men?" the wise-ass kid asked.

"I don't know, they got away before we got a good look, one of them was dressed like a cop, he was covered in blood," Casey answered. "We came in and found that man dead and this one about dead. If he's going to live we need to get him to a hospital."

"Nobody's going anywhere," the kid replied in a tone that indicated he was not one to mess with.

The middle aged man looked at them with a determined glint in his eye and he asked them, "Can _you_ help him?"

"We're not doctors," Kelly answered, "All we can do is _maybe_ stop him from bleeding out anymore than he already has, but he _still_ has to get to the hospital if he's going to survive."

"So stop it," the man said, "Stop the bleeding, what're you waiting for?"

"You got anything to pack it with?" Casey asked.

"What?" the man squinted his eyes.

"Gauze, cloth, plastic, anything we can pack the hole with," Kelly barked at them, "Tape to keep it on, _find_ something we can use!"

"Oh shit, why didn't we think of that?" the man asked himself. "Right."

"Hey man, we can get some plastic off one of those," the rat-like man nodded towards the coffins.

"Mr. Pink, for once you have a good idea, Eddie," the middle aged man addressed the kid with the gun, "Eddie, make yourself useful."

"I am," he replied as he kept his gun on the two firefighters, "I'm making sure nobody tries pulling a fast one."

"Fuck you, Eddie, they're firemen, they _save_ people."

"They also work with cops, Mr. White," Eddie replied.

"Well what the fuck are you so worried about?" the middle aged man asked him, "You're the one who said there's no setup."

"There is _not_ a setup," he hollered back.

"Then what does it matter?" Mr. White asked, "Get your ass to work and help!"

"Fuck you, I don't take orders from you," Eddie said.

"Shut up both of you!" Casey yelled at them, surprising all three of the newcomers. "If you don't want your friend to die, help us out, get the damn plastic already! Got any towels? Get them, get anything we can use!"

"Right, right," Mr. Pink said anxiously as he bounced on the ball of his foot before heading into the next room.

Mr. White and Eddie ripped a sheet of plastic off one of the coffins and gave it to the firemen, who cut it into smaller pieces to stick into the wound. Mr. Orange lay on the floor and moaned and yelled in pain as they worked.

"Hey," Mr. White just thought of something and asked Eddie, "If there's no setup, and there's no rat, who helped that cop get out of here?"

"How the fuck should I know?" Eddie asked, "I wasn't even fucking here."

"Well what do you think your daddy's gonna say about that?" Mr. White asked cynically.

"I don't know, but I do know whoever fucking killed Mr. Blonde is gonna die!" Eddie told him.

"Larry..." Mr. Orange weakly croaked out, taking everybody by surprise, but nobody more so than the two firemen, "Larry...I shot 'em."

"What, kid?" Mr. White stepped closer, "What'd you say?"

"Mr. Blonde...went nuts...he was gonna kill the cop, he cut off his ear, he was gonna burn him!"

"He's right about that," Mr. Pink said as he reentered the room with some shirts and towels, "The whole place stinks of gas and...gah!, there's a fucking ear on the floor here!"

Mr. Orange nodded, "He was gonna kill the cop...then me...then when you guys came back, he 's gonna kill all'you and then make off with the diamonds."

Casey and Severide looked at each other and exchanged silent expressions of panic. This wasn't supposed to happen.

There was a heavy silence in the air as Nice Guy Eddie stepped closer, so he was standing right over Mr. Orange, and said to him, "Let me say this out loud, 'cause I wanna get it straight in my head. You're saying that Mr. Blonde was gonna kill you, then when we got back he was gonna kill us, take the satchel of diamonds and scram. I'm right about that, right? That's correct? That's your story?"

"I swear on my mother's eternal soul that's what happened," Mr. Orange weakly offered.

The silence was there again, but not for long.

"The man you just killed was released from prison, he got caught at a company warehouse full of hot items. He could've fucking walked. All he had to do was say my dad's name, but he didn't, he kept his fucking mouth shut, and did his fucking time, and he did it like a man. He did four years for us, so, Mr. Orange, you're telling me this very good friend of mine, who did four years for my father, who in four years never made a deal, no matter what they dangled in front of him, you're telling me that now that this man is free, and we're making good on our commitment to him, he's just gonna _decide_ , out of the _fucking blue_ , to rip us off? Why don't you tell me what really happened?"

Casey opened his mouth to speak and started to stand up, but he felt the muzzle of the gun jammed against his turnout coat, and Eddie warned him, "I wasn't talking to you!"

"I don't care, I don't care what's going on here, I don't care what you people have going on, I care about saving this man's life," Casey said firmly. "Do you know anything about hypovolemic shock? Huh? Do you? When a person loses more than 20 percent of their blood, sepsis sets in, organs shut down, its one of the most painful ways to die that there is. This man is _already_ in shock, he's lost so much blood he should already be dead! In all my years as a firefighter I've never seen anyone lose this much blood and they're still breathing, never even mind talking. But yeah, he's in shock, a normal person would be rambling in delirium after only losing _half_ as much as he has. So if you want to know what _really_ happened, you'll have to wait until he's in the hospital recovering."

"What in the hell for?" another voice entered the conversation and Kelly and Casey saw a fat old bald headed man enter the warehouse, as he joined the others he added, "It'd just be more bullshit." He gestured to the man laying on the floor and said, "This man set us up."

Eddie blinked, "Dad, I'm sorry, but I don't know what the hell's happening."

"It's alright, Eddie, I do."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Mr. White asked.

"This lump of shit's working with the C.P.D."

Mr. White shook his head, "Joe, I don't know what you think you know, but you're wrong."

"Like hell I am."

"Joe, trust me on this, you've made a mistake," Mr. White said, "He's a good kid. I understand, you're hot, you're super fucking pissed, we're all real emotional, but you're barking up the wrong tree. I know this man, he wouldn't do that."

"You don't know jack shit," the old man barked, "I do! That cocksucker tipped off the cops and had Mr. Brown and Mr. Blue killed."

Mr. Pink, the bug-eyed man did a double take, "Mr. Blue is dead?"

"Dead as Dillinger."

The air was thick again with a strange silence, which was short lived, and abruptly ended when Mr. White asked ominously, "How do you know all this?"

That question even had Casey and Severide glancing at each other in question.

"How do you know all this, Joe?" Mr. White asked, "How do you know Mr. Orange is the informant?"

"He was the only one I wasn't 100% sure on," Joe Cabot answered. "I should have my fucking head examined for going on a plan like this when I wasn't 100% sure of my crew."

Mr. White was livid, screaming at Joe, "That's your proof!?"

"You don't need proof when you have instinct!" the old man answered as he pulled his gun and aimed it at Mr. Orange. He just now seemed to notice the two firemen standing in the way and gestured at them with the gun, "Get the fuck out of the way."

"How about it, Joe?" Mr. Pink asked, "Are they part of it?"

The old man looked at the two firefighters and answered, "I never saw either of them before in my fucking life. Doesn't matter, they're here now, they're a part of this, now fucking _move_!"

Casey felt his legs paralyzed with fear, but if it actually showed on his face, nobody noticed. He took in a breath, and merely responded, "No...if you're going to shoot him, you'll have to shoot me too."

"And me," Kelly offered, as he stood alongside his best friend.

"That's the way you want it, fine," Joe said.

There was a click, and another. Suddenly everybody had a gun drawn on everybody else. Mr. White pulled his gun on Joe, and Eddie pulled his gun on Mr. White.

Mr. Pink was the only one who hadn't drawn a gun, and he seemed to be inching his way back and out of the situation, "Come on, guys, nobody wants this! We're supposed to be fucking professionals!"

"Joe," Mr. White ignored his colleague and addressed the ringleader, "if you kill this man, you die next. I repeat: if you kill this man, you die next."

"Larry," Eddie said, "we've been friends and you respect my dad and I respect you, but I will put fucking bullets right through your heart, you put that fucking gun down now!"

Mr. White ignored him, and focused on the father. "Damn you, Joe, don't make me do this."

Eddie was screaming now, "LARRY STOP POINTING THAT FUCKING GUN AT MY DAD!"

Like dominoes, they all fell. Joe shot Mr. Orange, Mr. White shot Joe, Eddie shot Mr. White, another shot took Eddie out, and they were all on the floor dead. Casey opened his eyes, still glued to the spot he'd been standing in, and saw in disbelief, Kelly holding Mr. Orange's gun, and the barrel was smoking. One left in the chamber after all.

They turned and saw Mr. Pink crouched in the corner, who looked and saw his partners in crime dead on the floor. He grabbed the satchel and moved to high tail it out of there, but Casey and Severide stood in the way.

"Get out of the way," he said shakily, "I don't wanna kill anybody, but one way or another you're getting out of my way."

Both firemen stood their ground, he moved to the side, then rushed Kelly and threw him to the floor, taking Casey down with him, Mr. Pink hightailed it to the door and ran out, in the process his gun fell out of his pocket and landed on the floor by them. The plastic around the hearse rustled as the door opened and Patrolman Nash ran out after him. Gunshots were heard, followed by Mr. Pink faintly screaming, "Don't shoot, I've been shot!"

Matt and Kelly pushed up on their knees and slowly got to their feet, Kelly grabbed the discarded gun as he stood up. They looked around at the bodies on the floor. Joe Cabot, the ringleader behind this whole mess, whose coming arrest had been responsible for this whole waiting game, dead. His son, Eddie, dead. Freddy Newendyke had another gunshot in him, but he was still clinging to life. Mr. White, Larry, moaned, and rolled over on his side, and crawled over to Freddy, and loosely held onto him, and drudged out the words as they heard approaching sirens off in the distance, "Sorry, kid...looks like...we're gonna...do a little time..."

Freddy reached up and tried to put his arms around Mr. White, and out of nowhere, got out a quiet, "I'm a cop." A pause. "I'm a cop, Larry...I'm so sorry..."

A groaning sob escaped Larry as he about collapsed on top of Freddy. As Freddy continued to deliriously repeat his confession, and apology, Larry found his gun, and pressed it to the side of Freddy's face. He moved to pull the trigger, and there was an explosion.

Larry dropped his gun and moaned as he collapsed on the floor beside Freddy. Kelly dropped Mr. Pink's gun on the floor, a second later the door opened and cops and EMTs were rushing in.


	2. Chapter 2

Will Halstead came out to the waiting room that was full of cops and firefighters and he told them, "Newendyke's out of surgery...it's really a miracle he even lived long enough to get here...but, the next several hours are going to be critical. We will keep you updated when there's any change in his condition."

Hank Voight stood with his arms folded to his chest and asked, "And Larry Dimmick?"

"They recovered two bullets, he's expected to recover."

"And what about that other guy, Mr. Pink?" Kelly asked.

"Oh," Will nodded with slight amusement, "He's awake and alert, by all rights he shouldn't be able to feel anything after the drugs he was given, but he strikes me as a guy who just likes to scream to hear his own voice."

"So that's it," Voight said, "We arrest them now and when they're recovered, we take them into custody."

"So you weren't in on the sting to bust this Joe Cabot?" Herrmann asked.

Voight shook his head, "None of this was the 21st's doing. If it _had_ , those guys wouldn't have gotten away."

"That Mr. Blonde..." Casey said, "Freddy said he's the one who started shooting and got the whole ball rolling."

"Vic Vega."

"What?" Kelly asked.

Voight explained, "The dead guy at the warehouse, that Eddie said just got out after four years? His name was Vic Vega, he's been in and out of prison for most of his life."

"But you knew about Joe Cabot," Casey said.

"Oh yeah, everybody knows about him, and that spoiled punk kid of his, pretty well known nationally, everybody knows him, but nobody's ever been able to catch him red-handed," Voight answered. "He runs most of his operations in Los Angeles, but apparently we had the rocks he was looking for this time, so the operation uprooted to Chicago and they put their feelers out for a little local talent to help them pull it off."

"Mr. Orange," Kelly said.

"Bingo."

"What about the patrolman?" Casey asked. "Marvin Nash?"

"His ear was cut off...aside from that, his injuries are actually fairly minimal, he should make a full recovery in a few weeks." Will addressed the Intelligence sergeant and said, "There might not be any update on Officer Newendyke tonight...if you wanted to come back in the morning..."

Hank looked the doctor dead in the eyes and told him, "He's a Chicago cop, he's one of us, we're staying."

And that seemed to settle it for everybody else in the waiting room.

Will nodded in concession, "Okay..." he stopped and looked at Kelly and Casey, who had shed their turnout gear but were still covered in dry blood from the warehouse. "Have you two been examined yet?"

They looked at each other in silent confusion, and as if they couldn't understand what he was talking about, they both shook their heads.

"We're fine," Kelly said.

"Yeah, sure," Will said not convinced, "Come with me, we can make it quick."

"Go on," Boden told them, "everybody will still be here when you get back."

* * *

"Officer Newendyke? Can you hear me?"

Freddy breathed heavily, then slowly opened his eyes, and saw Casey and Severide standing over him.

"What're you two doing here?" he weakly asked.

"The doctor said you were up to having visitors," Casey said. "How're you doing?"

"How..." he swallowed, and tried again, "How the fuck do you think I'm doing? My intestines are being held together with stitches, how would you be doing?"

"Well the doctor said you're recovering well all things considered," Kelly said.

Freddy narrowed his eyes to slits, and he said to Kelly accusingly, "Why'd you shoot Larry?"

Kelly blinked. "He was going to kill you, he's not dead, he's alive."

"You should've let him kill me," Freddy said. "You should've let me die."

"What are you talking about?" Casey asked.

"Why did you tell him you were a cop?" Kelly asked. "Help was coming, all you had to do was stay quiet for another minute or so, and it would've all been over."

Freddy shook his head, "I had to tell him."

The two firemen looked at each other questioningly.

"What do you mean?" Casey asked.

"I owed it to him...he got himself killed defending me because he was so sure I wasn't a cop, it was because of me he got shot."

"No." The gruffer voice at the door got everybody's attention and Casey and Kelly turned and saw Hank Voight standing in the doorway. With his hands in his pockets, Voight entered the room and said, "Larry Dimmick got shot because of Larry Dimmick."

Freddy blinked a few times as if trying to clear his vision as he looked up at the older cop. "Sergeant Voight..."

"Start from the beginning," Hank told him, "Tell me why you should be dead."

Matt and Kelly stood back but watched intently as the conversation unfolded.

Freddy heaved in a few deep breaths, and was visibly worked up as he explained, "None of this was supposed to happen, nobody was supposed to get hurt, nobody was supposed to die...cops died...I killed a woman...she didn't know I was a cop, she thought we were just two carjackers, she shot me in the gut, and I shot her in the heart." A tear rolled out of the corner of his eye and down the side of his face, "She could've been somebody's mother, somebody's wife, and I killed her."

"That's what you were trained to do," Voight softly explained, "All cops are trained to shoot to kill, to make split second decisions, it's hard, there are never any clear lines, but it's what the academy trained you to do, to survive."

"At what cost?" Freddy asked quietly. "Huh? That I get to say 'we made the case, we busted these bastards'? They're all dead now except for Mr. Pink and Larry...and Larry...I just don't get him...the guy barely knew me, and he was the only one who wanted to help me...he was willing to die for me...why?" The tears were coming more steadily now and saliva bubbled in his mouth as he struggled with the words, "In an alternate universe, we would've been friends, he was the closest thing _to_ a friend I had during the job...and because he was, he's going to prison. I...I _know_ , he was a career criminal, he killed cops when we were making our escape, he deserves it, he deserves to fry...but I feel like I betrayed him, and I hate it, I hate feeling like that, but I can't get rid of it."

Voight nodded. "I know," he said quietly. He put a hand on the wounded cop's shoulder and told him, "I went on a lot of undercover jobs when I was younger, I know, you're not supposed to get involved with the people you're going to bust, but they're not all a bunch of pricks, sometimes they're easy to get along with, sometimes they're pretty decent when they're _not_ committing robberies, and to be convincing, so they don't suspect, sometimes you gotta get close to them...but it's our job, Fred. It's hard, but it's what we have to do."

Freddy leaned back against the pillow and said quietly, "I don't think I can...I don't think I can do it again."

Voight was silent for a minute, then pointed out, "You've got a long recovery ahead of you, Freddy...and there's a good chance when you're finally healed, you _won't_ be allowed to return to active duty...you might get offered a desk assignment...or maybe you'll decide that being a cop just ain't right for you anymore. Not everybody's cut out to be a cop, and not all cops are cut out for the long haul. Not because you didn't do your job well, you did, you had everybody fooled. Something somewhere went wrong and you should've been dead, and _that's_ not because you're not a good cop either, that's just the facts, it's how it is...but you survived, meaning you have to figure out what you want to do now."

Freddy was quiet for a bit, lost in thought, and when he finally spoke he said, "I wish Larry had died...I think _he_ wishes he'd died...he'll be doing life in prison for killing those cops and the robbery...I think he would've preferred dying in that warehouse to what he's facing now."

"That might be," Voight nodded, "but it wasn't your call to make. What you're going through is survivor's guilt, because the cops on the scene died and you couldn't stop it, because you shot a woman in a kill or be killed scenario and you couldn't stop it, because Larry shot those cops and you couldn't stop it, because he stood up for you and it nearly cost him his life and did cost him his freedom...that's a lot of burden to shoulder."

"So what am I supposed to do?" Freddy asked. "Huh? I get out of here, and what, go to therapy, join a 12 step program for trauma survivors?"

"Beats the alternative of eating your gun," Voight told him. "Anyway, something for you to think about while you're healing up. You held your own and maintained your cover right up to the very end of a dire situation nobody should ever have to be in. You're a hell of a cop, Newendyke, no matter where you go from here, you're a damned good cop, don't forget it."

Voight turned and left the room, and as he went out, someone else came in.

"Nash," Freddy weakly said.

Kelly and Casey turned and saw the patrolman dressed in civilian clothes with the side of his head bandaged and stitches on his cheek.

"Newendyke," he said as he walked into the room and over to the bed, "How' you doing?"

"Docs say I'll live," he answered.

Marvin nodded, and he looked down at the cop and said, "I got something to say to you."

The firemen saw Freddy brace himself for what was coming.

Nash hovered over Freddy and told him, "Thanks for saving my life."

That was _not_ what Freddy had been expecting. It was so off-guard that tears started building in Newendyke's eyes.

"Cuz of you, my son still has a father, and I'm going home to him, thank you," Nash said.

Freddy blinked and the tears rolled down his face, his voice broke as he choked out, "You're welcome."

Casey and Severide quietly slipped out of the room and headed back the way they'd come, both feeling emotionally drained.

"Oh man, after all that," Kelly said, "I feel like we just came out of a war zone."

"This is Chicago," Casey replied, "Every shift is a war zone."

"Yeah, but nothing like this," Severide pointed out. "So, what do you want to do now?"

"Go home, take a shower, get a beer, crawl into bed and pass out until next shift," Casey answered, feeling every bit as exhausted as Kelly sounded.

"Sounds like a plan to me," Kelly agreed.


End file.
